Over time, I’ve come to understand that pastoral ministry is fundamentally about people. I’m in the people business. I’m called to reach people with the Gospel of Jesus Christ, to love them, encourage them, and shepherd them. Pastoral ministry isn’t primarily about programs, systems, or even perfect sermons. Those things have their place. But at the end of the day and at its core, ministry is about relationships. And this disposition toward people isn’t just a strategy – it’s deeply personal. I believe it reflects something true about how God made me and how the Gospel itself works.
The Roots of My Relational Heart
From a young age, I’ve been drawn to the biblical character Barnabas (Acts 4:36-37). His real name was Joseph, but the apostles called him “Barnabas” – the Son of Encouragement. He was generous, bold, and built people up in ways that shaped the early church. That stuck with me. In fact, my wife and I even named one of our sons, “Barnabas” because I believe deeply in the calling to exhort others and build them up in Christ. And that’s who I wanted to be.
But my own tendency to encourage others didn’t come from a purely godly place. I was trying to be like Barnabas for the wrong reasons. It began in insecurity. I wanted to be liked. I feared rejection so I became a people-pleaser. I was always trying to say the right things and encouraging others became a way to win approval. Of course, Christians should be encouraging – but not as a mask for self-love or fear of man.
Over the years, God began to redeem that in me. Over the years, the Gospel has exposed some of that fear of man in me and replaced it with something deeper. I began to understand that encouragement isn’t about being liked, but rather about building others up in Christ. It’s about pointing them to Jesus, not myself. Through the Gospel, I came to see that encouragement isn’t about people-pleasing. It’s about reflecting the Spirit’s role of lifting up, speaking truth, building faith. The love of Jesus began to reshape my motivation.
The Relational Nature of the Gospel
My relational approach to ministry isn’t simply a matter of personality or preference – it’s theologically grounded in the doctrine of the Trinity itself. The God we serve exists in perfect relationship: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in eternal communion. We are made in the image of this relational God, which means that our deepest needs and highest calling are fundamentally relational. When we ignore this truth in ministry, we’re not just being ineffective; we’re being unfaithful to the very nature of the God we claim to represent.
Furthermore, the Gospel is itself supremely relational. It’s not merely about individual salvation, though it includes that. It’s about restored relationship – with God, with others, and even with ourselves. The cross of Christ bridges the relational chasm created by sin, making possible the kind of authentic community that our hearts were designed to experience. When I approach pastoral ministry relationally, I’m not just being nice or following best practices; I’m embodying the very message I proclaim.
Jesus modeled this perfectly. He met people in their specific needs: the woman at the well (John 4:1-42), the tax collector in the tree (Luke 19:1-10), the desperate father with a sick child (Matthew 17:14–20). He didn’t treat people as projects or interruptions. He stopped. He noticed. He listened. His ministry was deeply personal and profoundly relational. This pattern reveals something essential about God’s character and, by extension, about authentic pastoral ministry.
What This Looks Like Day to Day
This relational disposition shapes everything from how I prepare sermons to how I conduct hospital visitations. When crafting a message, I find myself thinking not just about theological accuracy or rhetorical effectiveness, but about the faces in my congregation – the single mother struggling with doubt, the businessman battling pride, the teenager wrestling with identity. The truth of Scripture remains unchanged, but the way I present it becomes deeply personal, contextualized for the specific community I serve.
In counseling and pastoral care, this relational approach means I listen before I speak, seek to understand before seeking to be understood. I’ve learned that people rarely need just information; they need inspiration. They need someone to journey with them through their questions and struggles. Sometimes the most pastoral thing I can do is simply sit in silence with someone’s pain, offering the ministry of presence before the ministry of words.
Even in leadership and administration – areas that can easily become impersonal – I try to remember that every decision affects real people with real lives, hopes, and fears. The budget isn’t just numbers on a spreadsheet; it’s about creating space for meaningful ministry to actual human beings. Staff meetings aren’t just about efficiency; they’re about caring for the souls of fellow staff members.
A Call to All of Us
As I reflect on what drives my heart in pastoral ministry, I’m convinced that our world desperately needs pastors who understand that the Gospel is not just a message to be proclaimed but a relationship to be embodied. In an increasingly disconnected age, the church has a unique opportunity to model the kind of authentic community that human hearts long for. In that way, relational ministry isn’t just for pastors. Every believer is called to embody the relational heart of God because people don’t just need content. They need connection. They need to be seen, heard, and loved. You don’t need a title to live this way. You just need the Gospel alive in your heart. Love as God loves. See as God sees. Slow down enough to offer someone your presence – and maybe even your silence.
This doesn’t mean abandoning careful theology or strategic thinking. Rather, it means allowing both to be shaped by the relational reality of the Gospel. It means seeing every person not as a project but as an individual made in God’s image who is worthy of time, attention, and genuine care. This is what drives my heart. This is the ministry to which God has wired me and called me. And this, I believe, is the hope of the Gospel made visible in our fractured world.
This article is part of the Leaders’ Line blog, written by various leaders and geared specifically toward those serving in leadership. Our email newsletter goes out twice a month. In addition to Leaders’ Line articles, each newsletter includes news and notes curated especially for ministry leaders. Sign up here to receive it directly in your inbox.